Harry Potter and the Sacrifice
by MiniEinstein
Summary: Harry Potter, book six. Harry mourns over the death of Padfoot, while plot rolls on in the midst of his woe.
1. Darkness

Chapter 1  
  
Darkness  
  
"Just a little farther... I almost have you..." Harry Potter stumbled down the steps toward the veil of the Department of Mysteries. His eyes, filled with tears of hope and loss, shone like a beacon of green light showing the way towards the only father figure he had ever truly known. He reached the bottom, choking back sobs, and leapt through the rippling blackness that separated the living from the dead. Immediately his dreams were realized, and when he came down from his leap, two warm, glowing arms wrapped around him and held him close.  
  
"Mum..." he breathed, and hugged her back. The tears were flowing swiftly now and clouded his vision as he felt someone ruffle his hair playfully behind him. Harry reluctantly let go of his mother to hug his father, taking everything around him. They seemed so close, yet he knew that they were farther away than anything he had ever known. At the same time he realized that they were but a figment of his imagination. But that didn't bother him now. He just wanted to see Sirius again.  
  
And his wish was granted. As he ran his fingers through his dead father's hair, a laugh like a bark made him start. Harry's eyes searched around the room and finally, just when he had realized it was a part of the dream, there stood, more alive than he had ever been, Sirius Black. All others disappeared as Harry flung himself into his godfather's arms, crying harder than he had ever cried before. He felt Sirius's tears mingle with his own and run into his long, matted hair.  
  
And then, suddenly, that matted hair grew in length and pulled back into a ponytail. But no matter. He was still Sirius.  
  
Or so Harry thought.  
  
The stranger tightened their grip on Harry, and soon he felt dizzy and lightheaded. He began to struggle, and as he pushed the stranger off, gasping for air, he saw that the woman strangling him was none other Sirius's cousin and murderer, Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
Harry squinted through the darkness at her sneering face, and just when he thought he was losing consciousness, her voice cut through the ringing in his ears.  
  
"Finally... I will finish you just like I did my dear cousin," she said, her sunken eyes full of malicious laughter as she tilted Harry's head back and...  
  
...dissolved into darkness. Harry tried to look around but found that his head was stuck in the spot that Bellatrix had left it as though held there by some invisible force. And as he struggled to draw breath, he could hear another creature breathe, a slow, rattling sound that chilled him heart and soul. His mind, fogged with pain and sadness, immediately knew. A dementor.  
  
Harry's heart, already full to bursting with the loss of Sirius, exploded with the weight of the fear that came upon him then. He knew now why his head was tilted backwards. It was going to kiss him.  
  
Now, this may sound pleasant, but a kiss from a dementor is a fate worse than death. Harry was a kiss-attracting machine, which isn't good if you're the world's only chance for survival. In his third year, Harry nearly had his soul sucked out through his mouth, which would have left him an empty shell incapable of many things. He would never have seen what comes after life and death. That is, if he hadn't conjured up a perfect Patronus at that moment, saving his soul from utter destruction. But that's a different story.  
  
Harry could sense nothing now. Nothing but the numbness that hardened his heart and kept the dementor from making him relive his parents' death again, not to mention Sirius's. He closed his eyes and shivered, waiting for the creature enclosed in darkness to come.  
  
But to Harry's surprise, he found himself waiting for quite a while. He opened his eyes, taking in everything of the nothingness surrounding him. And then, just when he thought he was safe, the dementor pulled down its hood and extended its rotting, scabby, glistening, skeletal hands toward Harry's face, prying his mouth open. He didn't resist; he simply wanted to see Sirius again. But then, just as he was an inch away from sheer end, he realized the depth of the situation. At the moment that the dementor kissed him, he screamed, but the sound was stifled by the dementor's mouth. The last thing he heard, or thought he heard, was Uncle Vernon yelling at him to stop that infernal racket.  
  
His head was swimming in darkness now, and when he finally opened his eyes, he was meet with even more darkness. Not to mention the Dursleys. Yelling at him. Again. Because he had had a nightmare. Again. Harry waited for them to stop, and as Aunt Petunia walked out the door, he thought he saw a glimpse of sympathy. But he must have still been dreaming. the Dursleys didn't care a whit about him.  
  
He turned to Hedwig, his owl, for a bit of comfort he knew he would never find. Sirius's death had left a void in him that nothing could ever fill. He was empty now. Permanently.  
  
And as Harry drifted slowly back to sleep, he found that his mind was even emptier. 


	2. Insults and Compliments

Harry woke up every morning after that and let Hedwig out, wishing that he could fly away as well and escape all his aches and pains. Between his scar burning and the sorrow of Sirius's death eating away at his heart, life was agony for Harry. He wished Voldemort would hurry up and finish him off already. At least then he could see Sirius again.  
  
But Ron and Hermione had a different view on the matter, judging by the letters Harry received every lonely night.  
  
Ron took a rather timid approach.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Are you OK? No, of course you're not, that was a silly question. Sorry.  
  
Anyway, has your scar been burning lately? OH, well, it would, wouldn't it, considering You-Know-Who's returned... But have you been having nightmares again? Well, of course you have, about, you know... Oh you know what I mean. The kind that come true. Or are coming true. Or--  
  
Or maybe you want to be alone. Or maybe you should just tell me what you want and make it a whole lot easier on me. OK?  
  
I'm really sorry, you know, and--  
  
Look, just write back soon.  
  
Ron  
  
P.S. Dumbledore says it's OK for us to come visit you. We're gonna have a birthday party for you, Harry!  
  
At this Harry smiled. He had never had a birthday party before. Momentarily happy, he was glad to be distracted from Sirius. But thinking about the thing he was distracted from brought his attention back to it, and he sank into sorrow once more.  
  
J?K?L  
  
A few days later, Harry woke up to the usual--the screaming from him, and the yelling from the Dursleys. He had had another nightmare.  
  
He averted his gaze to the pile of untouched letters still on his desk as Unlce Vernon wagged his large finger at him. Then he remembered about Ron coming.  
  
"Yeah. Sorry. Whatever," Harry interrupted, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "Look, it's my birthday, and my friends are coming over." He got up and started rifling through his closet. Seeing Uncle Vernon's ruddy face turn a rather putrid shade of green was immensely satisfying, and he added, "You know, the ones who blew up the fireplace?" Harry smirked as Uncle Vernon's face abruptly changed to the color of the fire that used to crackle merrily in that fireplace.  
  
"WHAT IN BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? THEY CAN'T COME HERE!" Uncle Vernon screamed as Harry pulled on his shirt and fumbled for the socks Dobby had knit him.  
  
Harry calmed his racing heart and replied, "Hermione's parents are very respectable dentist, and she's sensible enough to come by car." he hoped it was a nice car, or the day would start off very poorly. (Uncle Vernon judged people by the quality of their cars.)  
  
At that moment, Harry's ears picked up the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. He dodged Uncle Vernon and tore down the stairs as Aunt Petunia screamed.  
  
"VERNON! IT'S THEM!"  
  
Harry laughed to himself as Dudley grabbed his buttocks and announced that he was going to the Polkisses' for tea. As Harry watched, Dudley half ran, half waddled past the Sterling BMW parked in front of Number 4, Privet Drive. He smiled at the sight of Hermione climbing out of the car, helping her parents out as well and looking around.  
  
"Harry! Happy birthday, Harry! It's so good to see you!" Hermione said, hugging him. "You've met my parents."  
  
Harry smiled broadly. "I remember," he said as Mr. Granger shook his hand.  
  
"Harry," said Mrs. Granger soothingly, and Hermione, sensing what was coming, began gesturing wildly for her to drop it. "We just want to say that we're very sorry for your loss." Hermione groaned.  
  
Harry stared blankly at the Grangers for a moment, then regained himself and spoke. "Oh," he said, "OK." This was not the greeting he had expected, and he shook his head as though to shake off the sadness that had arisen in him once more.  
  
Aunt Petunia, a pained expression on her face, gestured for Harry's visitors to come in. Hermione stopped.  
  
"Wait," she said. "There are more coming."  
  
Harry smiled widely as the car opened once more, revealing a family of red-heads dressed in Muggle attire. Harry watched as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley herded Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie out into the sunlight.  
  
"Where's Percy?" he asked Hermione. He received a look from her that silenced him completely. He smiled anyway and waved to everyone, exchanging greetings with all 8 of the Weasleys.  
  
Uncle Vernon made to close the door, but at that moment, a former Marauder exited the car and tipped his hat in the Dursleys'direction.  
  
"My God," said Uncle Vernon in a hushed voice. "It's like a bloody clown car!"  
  
Harry smiled and hugged Professor Remus Lupin, who had enough sense not to talk about Sirius's death.  
  
Harry turned to see a beautiful woman with startlingly green eyes and red hair climbing out of the car.  
  
"Wotcher, Harry," said the woman who looked like his mum. He smiled and gave a hug to her as Aunt Petunia swooned. Uncle Vernon stared at her in horror, and she winked at him and smiled.  
  
"Nymphadora Tonks, at your service," she said. "But please, call me Tonks."  
  
Harry laughed and turned to greet Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, who was wearing the usual bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye.  
  
A muffled sound came from the car at that moment, and Mad-Eye stepped out of the way obligingly as an unkempt, tangled mass of hair led the way for Hagrid, the half-giant. Anut Petunia gasped and her hand to her chest as Harry found himself locked in a bone-crushing hug.  
  
"Let's go in, shall we?" he said to murmurs of assent from the group. They all stepped inside, Harry beaming and leading the way.  
  
When all 15 of his guests had squeezed into the house, Harry closed the door and said, "Anyone want something to eat?"  
  
At this Fred and George exchanged mischievous looks and conjured up a long table, chairs, and enough food for 16 people. They then turned to the Dursleys, frowned, and conjured up a couple of TV trays and some birdfeed. Harry laughed, and Petunia gave a haughty sniff and left with Vernon. Harry could have sworn he heard a murmur of, "Good riddance," but he could have been wrong.  
  
Harry smiled and sat down at the head of the table, and they all ate breakfast. Afterwards Harry received his gifts while wearing a party hat that kept shouting, "Everybody mumbo!" He was thoroughly enjoying himself, and he was pleased to see that everyone else seemed happy as well.  
  
After a bit more chatting, they all mingled among themselves, telling jokes and swapping stories. Ron and Hermione, of course, stayed with Harry. They were talking heatedly about their OWL results, which had yet to come, when Tonks strolled up to them and began making small talk.  
  
In a few minutes, Tonks looked Harry up and down, taking in Dudley's old clothes, which fit him worse than ever, hanging loosely on his bony frame, and his hair, even more untidy than ever, lying matted under his party hat.  
  
"Harry, dear, you're looking a bit peaky, haven't you been eating?" She said, oblivious to Hermione's reproving glare. "And you hair's a mess! I should have got you a comb for your birthday!"  
  
"Well, I just got up," he said, more than a bit embarrassed.  
  
But Ron was now surveying him as well, frowning slightly. "Yeah, Harry, eat something, you're starting to look like Sirius did when he was living off rats," he said, then blushed furiously, his face changing to match the color of his hair as he hurriedly mumbled an apology.  
  
Harry dropped his gaze to his feet and murmured, "Nah, I'm OK." He was lying and he knew it, but he tried not to let it show, going to the bathroom for more reasons than one.  
  
J?K?L  
  
When he emerged, his eyes bloodshot and red and his nose running, several people turned and stared at him concernedly. Hermione came up to him.  
  
"Harry..." she said softly. "Are you OK, Harry?" Her face was sad and she continued, "Ron's really sorry. You know him; he forgot... Are you OK?"  
  
Harry sniffed loudly and nodded. "Yeah, I', OK... Just wish he could have been here, is all..." he trailed off and looked up, noticing that everyone was watching him now, all with expressions of sympathy, Professor Lupin especially. His hat gave a weak cry of, "Everybody mumbo!" and died. Fred and George looked at each other worriedly and nodded.  
  
"Hey everybody, who wants free joke stuff?" called Fred, causing a distraction, for which Harry was deeply grateful. He gave another huge sniff and started making small talk again, his mind still wandering around the Department of Mysteries and calling out to Sirius with all his heart. 


	3. The Old and the New

Harry loaded his trunk into a cart, his heart heavier than his belongings as he ran through the gateway onto Platform 9 3/4, not seeing Ron or Hermione anywhere. He sighed. Perhaps it was for the best; that way, he could sit in a compartment alone, instead of having to face more inquiries about his well-being. And he did.  
  
However, no sooner than he had leaned back in his quiet compartment than the door slid open to reveal Draco Malfoy and his bodyguards, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.  
  
"So, Potter," he spat, his voice dripping with malice, "I suppose you think you're too good to sit with your little friends now? I don't see why. You're even worse than the Mudblood; I don't see where you're so special."  
  
But Harry merely stared out the window serenely, not allowing himself to get riled up for the sake of peace and quiet. "Go away, Malfoy," he said.  
  
As usual, Draco refused, saying, "What, does poor little Harry miss the useless old has-been?" He smirked. "That bloke got what was coming to him, he did."  
  
And with that, he left, leaving Harry to cry in silence and in sorrow.  
  
J?K?L  
  
Harry got off the train later, looking around at the landscape and sighing. It seemed like ages ago when he had so eagerly anticipated returning here, returning to his true home. Now, however, it seemed that he almost dread it, the constant reminders of Sirius: the Whomping Willow, the fireplace in Gryffindor Tower, the beech tree by the lake, and, most of all, the ever-present repetitions of apologies from his classmates. And now, with the prospect of facing the entire school's watchful eyes, he grudgingly started off toward the thestral-drawn carriages.  
  
"Harry! Over here, Harry!" Harry stopped on the pretense of climbing into a cab to see Ron waving at him from the window of his cart. "Come on, sit with us!" He nodded, coming over and jumping in next to him and across from Hermione.  
  
"Hey, where were you on the train? We couldn't find you anywhere!" Hermione said, looking incredibly concerned.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I was in a compartment. By myself."  
  
The look on his face made Hermione refrain from inquiring any further. "Ok, Harry," she said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing dismally.  
  
If Ron noticed this, he did a very good job of covering it up, saying, "So who do you think they'll get to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?"  
  
Harry thought about it for a moment, replying finally, "Whoever it is, I just hope they're not as bad as Umbridge." He fingered the small scars on his right hand, all that was left of the horrible detentions in which he had had the words "I will not tell lies" engraved on the back of his hand. He shuddered, partly out of hatred, and partly out of the pain that lingered in his memory.  
  
Ron's eyes traveled to the scratches, and he nodded solemnly as they got out of the carriages. "She was evil, all right. Pure evil. But just think, Harry--she was the lowest of the low. Things can only get better now."  
  
J?K?L  
  
And he was right. As the three friends entered the Great Hall, they were met by a cheery smile from Professor Remus Lupin as he sat at the staff table.  
  
"Definitely better," said Harry happily, waving back at Lupin and sitting down, looking at the teachers. Snape was, as usual, leering unpleasantly back at him, looking thoroughly disheartened at Lupin's return. And for good reason: Snape had been enemies with him and the rest of the Marauders since his school days.  
  
Harry's gaze traveled from this unwelcome sight down to a more puzzling one: Dumbledore was gone. "That's odd..." he said, thoroughly confused. That is, until he heard a familiar voice speak up from behind him.  
  
"What is?" asked Professor Dumbledore mildly. "I believe I am allowed to roam the Great Hall to speak to my students." There was an edge of humor to his voice, though his normally laughing eyes were somber and devoid of emotion.  
  
Harry blushed slightly, feeling his friends' gazes lingering on him as he turned to face the headmaster. "Yes, of course!" he said, somewhat embarrassed. "I'm just not used to it, is all."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, his piercing look almost unbearably solemn as he said, "I thought as much." He paused, then continued, "There are a lot of things that you need to get used to, and I feel we should talk about them." Seeing the look on Harry's face, he added, "In my office, of course."  
  
Harry sighed. Somehow, he had known something like this was going to happen, and had been dreading the mere thought of it. He didn't want to move on, get used to new things; he only wanted to, somehow, return to the moment months ago when Sirius had died, and stop it from happening... But no. That was impossible. Still, though, there was a part of him that wanted desperately to refuse, to yell for once and for all that Sirius was not dead, and they shouldn't move on, they should all just stay put...  
  
"Absolutely," he said. "That'd be fine." 


End file.
